


no more in between

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Creampie, F/M, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Canon, Riding, THE FIC, Vaginal Sex, annette keeps faking and felix can tell, felix wants annette to loosen up abt it, how else are babies made, procreation, technically, tldr annette and felix are trying for a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23552617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Annette doesn’t half-ass anything, especially when it comes to things with a clear positive or negative result.(Or; Annette is very high-strung about how their attempts of trying to conceive are going, but Felix just wants her to calm the fuck down.)
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 18
Kudos: 152
Collections: Anonymous





	no more in between

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this when i was drunk . posting when im drunk a week later . happy quarantine everyone  
> not 2 b weird but my actual ao3 account is @theatrythms im just too embarrassed to post it there bc of all my irl friends that are subscribed to me . you hate to see it  
> Obsessed w Felix calling it ‘making love’ while annette is like we’re fucking . We’re boning . We are having sex . He just wants it to be romantic  
> anyway, enjoy !

Felix doesn't start getting annoyed about this until Annette pushes him off her for the umpteenth time.

His climax is barely subsiding by the time Annette has thrown him back onto the sheets at the foot of their bed, aligning herself against the headboard with her legs pushed up around her ears, hoping gravity will intervene, rather than common sense. Felix's head still feels foggy, his body sensitive as he sits up on his elbows, watching his wife maneuver herself around the top of the bed, 

This is the new-normal of Felix's life, and he's beginning to get a bit ticked off about it. But such is the trials and tribulations when one is trying to conceive with his wife.

"Annette," Felix states, plainly, stalking up the bed on his hands, until he's sitting next to her, leaning over her face. Annette has her pink tongue sticking out, the concentration evident on her face as she curled herself inwards. Annette meets his eyes, determination blazing, as she keeps her hips secure around her ribs, her legs stretched upwards. She doesn't seem annoyed like him. "Did you even finish?" He asks her, plainly, even if his cheeks are bright red.

"Felix." Annette says, her frown seeping into her voice. It's almost a warning, as if she's asking him not to go there, or even ask about it, but Felix is tired of _making love_ feel like a chore, even if there's a purpose in mind.

"Don't 'Felix' me," He scowls, waiting until she pulls herself into a sitting position, so they're level with each other. When it becomes apparent she won't, he stares down at her, scowl deepening. "Don't make me come down there."

"It'll feel less lonely." Annette says, trying a smile, and it only eases him somewhat.

He puts his briefs back on before lying next to her, throwing one of the blankets at the foot of the bed over her chest, sighing as his back sinks into the soft mattress of their bed. Annette still keeps her legs up, her calves pushed against her thighs, back exactly straight against the bed, and Felix can't fight his frown.

Whatever Annette does, she does with absolute effort, even if it means neglecting her own needs.

"Can I help?" Felix asks instead, his hands hovering over her stomach, not moving to touch her, or touch her _down there_ until she's said he can.

Annette turns her head to him, eyes wide, and it's enough for him to understand she doesn't. Felix tries not to growl at this.

"It won't mess things up, you know." He says instead, hoping to apply a bit of logic to the situation.

"I know that." Annette says, simply, her gaze trained on the ceiling above them. "I'm just not in the mood."

Annette, his wife, who once rode out three orgasms on just his fingers before letting his dick anywhere near her, isn't in the mood to finish, even if they've just spent the better part of an hour _making love._ She has to be frustrated, at least, pent up and wanting, if he knows anything about his wife.

"Annette." He says, voice low. "You're driving yourself crazy about this."

Her head turns back to him, sharper and quicker than before. She almost looks outraged. "No I'm not!"

"Then can I please finger you." He asks, simply, watching how his bluntness makes her burn. It's the only thing in the world he'd like to do right now, bring her past the edge she'd so graciously done for him. He's not enthused by the idea of her forgoing her own pleasure for _this_ , nonetheless, and he'd promised when things between them got physical that he'd never make sure she had to fake anything for him.

Annette, before they started trying, had never passed over the opportunity to finish.

"It's not important right now." She mumbles, removing her hands from her hips to wring them out. Her wrists must be tired from holding herself up like this, and Felix is unsure how long this will last for. Three nights ago, it was no more than ten minutes, but five nights ago, it was almost half an hour, her blue eyes blown open as she balanced on her back, hips raised. At least she'd finished then, her cries ascending as he thrust into her, her arms tensing around him, her legs forcing him closer just as he finished inside her.

Felix scoffs. "It is important, actually."

"This!" She gestures to her whole body, and the strange fold she's found herself in. "Is more important! It doesn't matter if I finish or not."

"It does to me." Felix says, and it sounds more desperate than he lets on. The time before last, she'd buried her face in his neck before moaning, and Felix missed out on the blissed-out, utterly-fucked face she gets when she climaxes, when her orgasm climbs up her spin and spreads from her whole body downwards. Recently, sex has worked on a routine, militaristic in style and practice, revolving around set days and changes in the moon, different positions, different perspectives, asking f Felix can fuck her _this way_ or _that way_ or if he'll drink some special teas she found in some ancient book in the library.

Felix changes tactic, instead lying down next to her, his feet scaling the headboard above him, their shoulders brushing. Annette has few weaknesses, but when Felix manages to crack one, he never forgets. He kisses her shoulder, long and languidly, his tongue draping out while his lips purse around her skin, waiting for the tell-tale sign of her sharp inhale. It never comes, but he lays his head on her shoulder, just between her jaw and neck. "Please, dearest, can I help you come." He says, with his sweetest and softest voice.

"It's fine." Annette grounds out, and even moves away from him. He hates whatever motions she's putting herself through to make this happen, make it work.

His irritation works harder than his brain, twisting his tongue into something somewhat mean. He thinks about the last few times they've been together, the push and pull against each other, the hot brightness behind his eyes, and Annette's sweet kisses when he was done, her assurance that she'd come with him, her muscles clenching around him and the come he'd left inside her. Now, at the thought of it, whatever climax she had five nights ago might've been faked.

"Annette," He says again, forcing his tone to level. He doesn't want her to think he's angry with her, even if he's just very annoyed. "When was the last time you had an orgasm."

Her expression gives her away, as if all of the pent-up energy is suddenly apparent. Felix accepted, long, long ago, back when they were still in the war and unmarried, meeting in the gaze of moonlight, that she couldn't climax from penetration alone. Felix knew, obviously, from hearing Sylvain rattle on about his conquests and acting like his dick had magical properties, that not all women--if any women, actually--could finish due to penetration alone. Annette was upfront and honest with him, moving her own hand to her clit while he pounded into her, or pushing his own hand to her when they _made love_ , finishing either minutes before he did, or making up for it when he was done and spent.

The point is; Felix is unsure when the last time he made his wife cum, and that's its own concern in itself.

"Have you been _faking_ ?!" Felix asks, incredulous, sitting up. Annette joins him this time, seemingly done with her time against the headboard, her mouth open and gaping, as if she's ready to argue back. She tucks the blanket over herself, Felix remembering her assertion that arguments should never happen in the _nude_. Felix can't help but be hurt; it's unlike Annette for her needs to go unanswered, unlike himself to ignore her wants and desires, even if she was faking so he wouldn't concern himself. "Why are you faking?!"

"It's not a big deal!" Annette is twenty seven, a woman grown, with no need to fight over this. "Why are you freaking out about this!"

"Because," He says, wishing he was less of a reckless man, less careless with his words and more careful about how he chose them. "I'm not exactly happy about having sex with someone who's not enjoying it."

"I am enjoying it!" She insists, and Felix decides to bite down on his scoff. "Just if we're to conceive, properly, me... finishing..." Annette says lamely, almost embarrassed of the words. "Is not the most important part of it. That's on _you_." And just to rile him, she pushes his finger against his chest.

"Annette," He says for the third time, already exhausted from this. "Whether or not you have an _orgasm_ matters to me. Trying to get pregnant isn't the most important thing in the world."

"Not to you, but it certainly is for me!" She cries, clapping a hand over her mouth when the words are out of her mouth. She looks distressed and upset, like Felix has poked some metaphorical bear that before now didn't matter, that only reared his head when they decided Annette would stop taking her teas every morning, when they decided that maybe having children, after five years of marriage, was a nice thing to do.

Most of their fights, no matter how mundane they are, always end with Felix being the bad guy. On impulse, more looking for something to do, he takes his loose hair and twists it into a knot at the back of his neck, hoping it'll give him time to phrase his words right. "It does matter to me, okay." He admits, looking away from her, his fingers tucked against the soft texture of his hair. "Just not if... not if I can't help you feel good. Or if you're pretending."

It's been six months since they decided that trying for a child is what they want, and the results haven't been exactly positive. He does want this, more than anything, as the first person to suggest that maybe now was the right time, the image of her delighted expression seared into his mind. Half a year on, he can see it's wearing Annette out, wearing him out, driving them to this conversation in the middle of the night. Annette has tears pooling in her eyes.

"You don't have the same pressure as me." She spits, and Felix wants to ask her what the pressure even is, if it's self-inflicted or coming from an outside source. If it's the former, he wants to take Annette in his arms and reassure her that this isn't the be-all-and-end-all, but if it's the former, he wants to know immediately who's placing such stress on his wife, and see how they can be dealt with.

Felix looks away, ripping his eyes from her pained face, hoping that the right words will come to him, like a blessed gift from the Progenitor God, or anything to keep the tears from her eyes. "Maybe," He says gently, reaching up to cup her cheek, his tone sympathetic, hoping to comfort her rather than distress her anymore. "We could stop trying, just for a while? It’ll happen… sooner or later, at least."

His words neither comfort nor distress her; in face, he just makes her mad. "Felix!" She says, her tone disbelieving. "Don't be an idiot! We can't stop! I’d rather sooner, as opposed to later!"

"It's not worth stressing about!" Annette is such a driven person, that some task comes in and she can't get it off her mind, not pausing to relax or tackle it in such a way that acknowledges her body has needs. Felix continues, trying to avoid pulling his hair out. "I hate seeing you like this." He states, and forgets to make his tone gentle.

Annette's whole face seems overwhelmed with emotion, the conflict flitting across her face, the hurt, most notably, twitching from every muscle. She looks at him, dead in the eye, and Felix feels like the worst person on earth.

"Goodnight, Felix." She says instead of yelling at him, and lies back down, turning her back to him.

Felix goes to bed full of regret, even if it feels better to get that off his chest.

-

They go a few days without sex, the light, lively world of their daytime regime untouched by the argument they had that night. Neither of them make any comments about it, never move towards it, living with and against each other at the same time. Felix feels snagged at the chest whenever he thinks about the sad look she'd sent him, invading into his every day routines, filling his dreams. Annette still sleeps with him wrapped around her, or with her cheek to his chest, or clutching one of his arms to her front, the same sleeping positions since they were soldiers in a war, that carried with them when they became the Duke and Duchess of Fraldarius. It feels like nothing is different, even if everything has changed.

It's only with a bit of observation, does he understand the pressure that's seemingly put on Annette's shoulders, advisers and councilors and noble's that suddenly make it their business to comment on whether or not the Duke and Duchess will have a child, like King Dimitri, or Margrave Gautier. These comments hurt Annette less when they were taking their teas together, when having a child didn't matter, when it was some far-off notion in the future to be unconcerned about.

Felix sits in their office one afternoon but can't bring himself to do any actual work, too consumed with all of the stresses seemingly pushed into his face all at once. With a careful glance to his wife's desk across from him, listening intently as she sang in the library attached to their study, he slinks forward, crouching around her table. The leather bound diary she keeps in the third drawer isn't a mystery to him, not when for the last six months she's been proudly presenting to him her careful calculations around which time of the month is the most optimum time for them to try and conceive, noticing a pattern when she seems insatiable, always beckoning him towards her, pulling him back to their chambers and making sure he doesn't leave until she's satisfied.

He checks the calendar on her desk, then leers down at the collection of dates in her notebook, realising that they've just synced up. Annette wouldn't try anything while they're fighting, too upset with him to even consider anything, but he knows she'll look at this as a lost opportunity, scorning that she missed a chance. And, if Felix is perfectly honest, he'd hate to miss this too, less so than how much he misses kissing and holding and touching her, how much he misses her small moans and laughs, her chaste touches.

The idea forms in Felix's mind, just as Annette flits back to her desk, none-the-wiser to the sleuthing mission he'd undertaken.

"Everything alright?" She asks, cocking her head to the side.

Felix's smile is slight, just a tug at the corner of his lips. "Just peachy."

-

Annette comes in from her bath like any other evening, her hair already divided into two plaits, different to the loops she used to wear when they were in the Academy. Felix looks up from his book, fingers twitching, waiting until she's at her wardrobe, humming and hawing over her selection of nightgowns.

He clears his throat, looking over in her direction. "Hey, Nette', can you come here for a moment?" He asks, beckoning her over.

She doesn't seem exactly confused, clutching her towel closer around her body, kneeling up on the bed to sit next to him. "Everything alright?"

Felix acts quickly, leaning over to kiss her, his hand running up her bare arm, up her shoulder, before finally coming to cup the back of her neck, waiting until she relaxes against him. Her small fingers curl against his sleep shirt, pulling him closer, tugging him to her, and it hits Felix then that this is exactly what she wants.

Before long, he's pulled his shirt from his back and she's loosened the towel, her breasts pushed against him as his hands moved from her waist to her thighs, sighing against her lips on his neck. Deftly, he pulls away, deciding that now is the right time to start, just as she's getting comfortable. Felix drags slow kisses across her cheek, down her jaw, until he reaches her neck, sucking small kisses down the column, smiling against her skin as she slides one hand into his hair.

Annette doesn't stop when he starts with her chest, moving his way down, slowly and steadily, each little nip and every suck dragging a soft exhale from her. Her legs spread when his torso nestles itself between her thighs, his lips peppering against her stomach and sternum, and for the first time that night, Annette thrusts up against him, a small whine coming from her.

"Felix," She asks, leaning up on her elbows, her face flushed. "What are you doing."

"Goddess," He says, half-sneering, half-scoffing. "Can a man not take care of his wife?"

"He can." Annette smiles coyly, before wrapping her finger around one of the long strands of his hair. "I'm just getting a bit impatient."

It seems to awaken something in him, his kisses building to an urgency before his knees slide off the bed, landing on the floor beside it. Annette's eyes widen, his intentions suddenly understood, and he gently pushes his palms against her thighs, up to her hips, and back down again, leaning his cheek above her knee. "Is this alright?" He asks, afraid of scaring her off, or stressing her out anymore than she already is. "I wanna taste you." He says, honestly, and Annette's knees lock up against his shoulders. "Is that okay?"

"You don't have to." Annette says, suddenly shy. He thinks of all the times Annette pushed his head against her cunt, her fingers dug into his hair, grinding against him with an urgency. It's almost like, the minute Annette decided sex was for _procreation,_ she forgot what she liked about it, all of the careful ways Felix learnt to move around her body gone in an instant.

“How can I not, you’re so wet.” He says, pushing his face between her thighs, the scent of her overwhelming. Annette flushes, her mouth opening to protest, before Felix cuts her off. "Annette, I wouldn't be here," He bites, gesturing with his free hand, the other wrapped around her thigh, pushing her open. "If I didn't want to."

"You know how I feel when you say stuff like that." She says, and Felix feels a thrill of pride run through him.

He waits until Annette nods, once, twice, three times, before she asks him to go closer, her head falling onto one shoulder. When Felix is happy this is what she wants, he moves closer, and his tongue reaches her clit.

At the pressure, Annette practically howls, her thighs clenching around his ears. The first time went down on her, he had no rhythm and no grasp of what he was doing, but now he's older and wiser, knows more about Annette's body than she knows herself, his tongue swirling against her. She gasps when he drags his tongue away, back down to her folds, her wetness sharp on his tongue, Annette's sigh bright against his ears. 

He continues his licks, taking his time with each swirl against her clit. Her voice only raises in pitch, hands clawing at his dark hair as he dabs at her wet folds, moving his lips from her clit to her entrance. His tongue stiffens, easing into her, fucking her with it while her head pushes back to the pillows at the headboard, her blue eyes squeezed shut. At the same time, his index and middle finger came to rub at her clit, circling the hot flesh. Each time Felix pushes into her, her fingers slipped on their grip on his shoulders.

“You really like this don’t you?” He remarks, moving his hand away from her clit, sliding it under her thigh, squeezing her gently, before he positions his fingers at her entrance, waiting with baited breath.

“Oh Goddess, yes, Felix." Annette says, and nods at him, urging his fingers inside. "Please." She says, and it's enough to make him move.

The first time they'd done anything like this, why were four days from Gronder in a tent on the side of the trail. Like all of their earliest conversations, it was deeply pragmatic and logical, almost theoretical, with their faces sore from the heat of their blushes. It had felt theoretical, until Annette, offhandedly, while in a rambling tangent, mentioning she felt her fingers were too short and small to make her feel anything, and by the end of the night she'd managed to take three of his fingers, gasping into her hand as he moved his fingers in and out of her.

By the time he's worked two fingers into her, she's moaning and sighing, her head thrown back into the pillows at the headboard as her elbows collapse like a house of cards. He can tell how close she is, his lips never straying far from her clit, even has his fingers pump into her, and one of her braids has managed to loosen with the exertion. It's nice to _make love_ when one of them isn't constantly thinking about if they're in the right position, if this is the best possible time of the month for them to do it, fretting over small things like if they ate the right food that day to optimize their chances. Felix just likes having his wife's thighs beside his ears, and listening to each breathy moan and each heavenly whine.

Annette pulls at his hair a few times in quick succession for it to mean anything else than her desperately trying to communicate with him. He looks up, captivated by the bleary look she sends him, before she motions him up. "Felix," She pants, blowing one stray strand of her hair away, and he can't help but smile at the sight. "Will you please fuck me?" She says and it sounds so desperate, his cock seems to jump.

"Is that not what I'm doing?"

"Felix," She says, voice low, pushing her breasts up, enticing her away from her cunt and closer to him. "I just want you inside, please?"

When she asks so nicely, he can't refuse. Invigorated, and grateful to be off his knees, he removes his trousers just as he crawls onto the bed, as naked as her now. She drags him down to a kiss, her hands twining around his neck. He grabs the back of her thighs to spread her open, grinning against the whimper she makes, blue eyes boring into him as he finally moves his shaft to her entrance, dripping with her wetness and his spit. When he enters her, he waits a bit, feeling how her chest expands against his when he finally penetrates her, her nails suddenly digging into his neck. It's at Annette's insistence that he moves out, then back in, this time deeper, almost further. Felix moves back and forth a few times, reveling at how good she feels around him, the argument of a week ago suddenly forgotten, out of his mind, until they have a rhythm.

This is when his true plan starts, when he buries himself to the hilt with his hands on her hips and she gasps, her fingers squeezing against his shoulders. He pulls his body back, as if about to pull out, until he gathers all his strength and flips them over, so Annette is on top, the position pushing him further into her, and Felix slams his eyes shut at the feeling.

"Felix!" Annette says, her palms flat against his chest, her face flushed red.

He peers up at her with one eye, watching the way her chest heaves, breasts moving up and down, her shoulders hunched forwards. "What?" He asks, innocently, raising a brow at her.

"Switch us back."

"No."

"Felix!" She insists, moving her hands to his shoulders, still too short to quite meet his eye, but her glare is formidable. "Why not?"

"I want you to ride me." He says, simply, watching her blush spread from her face to the top of her breasts. She goes between being surprised by his bluntness, to craving the direct and curt words, practically pulling them out of him.

This time, Annette balks at him. They've been trying for so long that he can't remember the last time she was on top, rocking her hips against him, moving frantically, chasing her own release before even considering his.

That's exactly what he wants again.

"Nette'?" Felix says, and his arm reaches out to finally pull the ribbon that's keeping her last plait tied together.

"Can't you just switch us back instead?"

Felix makes one shallow thrust, lifting his hips off the bed, watching how her eyes flutter closed. "No," he says, slowly, making another. "I'd like you to ride me, actually." He knows this arrangement doesn't reach some high ranking criteria for the best positions to conceive in, but at this point he's too desperate to watch her fall apart, feel her fall apart on top of him. He thrusts again, hoping this'll spur her on, Annette's fingers clenching around his shoulders again, then down his chest, until her fingers trail over his nipples.

To his surprise, Annette brings her knees up to the side of his hips, taking a deep breath, before raising herself up on him, then dropping back down, exhaling with a sharp hiss. "Y'know." She does it again, hips canting in a different direction. She gets faster, strong thighs maneuvering herself up and down, each sigh and moan crashing like a wave, and all Felix can do is grip her hips and watch. "This isn't the most ideal position for try-trying." Annette says, in her matter-of-fact way. Her breasts bounce with each movement, her muscles clenching wonderfully around him on each downwards thrust, before dragging off of him on each ascension. 

If he can form an answer, he doesn't say it; his breathing is, to be frank, fucked, given how often he cuts himself off after taking a breath only to follow up with another one, too all over the place for him to form a coherent sentence, much less make a convincing argument against her. The months of working through the motions with one another pale in comparison to this, to the feel of her. He feels like mentioning it between his moans, between each time his hands wrap around her waist, bracing against her ribs, until they finally inch towards her breasts, pinching and rolling the skin beneath his palms. One of her hands works her clit, her face twisted, each breath shifting more and more into a broken pant.

At this angle, he brushes that place inside her that manages to make her moan the loudest, and her head falls forward, her palm making a fist on his torso. He suspects she's so close because of how long she's been withholding herself from this, letting the pressure build and build and build before pulling away, too concerned with keeping all of his cum inside her rather than actually enjoying herself. Annette's eyes slide closed just as her speed increases, each thrust sending her slamming into his hips, a newfound urgency he didn't suspect Annette had within her, something insatiable.

Felix moves his hands from her hips, until his right hand is splayed against the inside of her thigh, his thin fingers cool against her clammy skin. He moves his thumb to her clit, hoping to help her along, and yelping when she smacks his hand away, her own fingers rubbing against her clit, her mouth opening in a long, languid moan. Felix can only watch, mesmerized, as her fingers circle her clit, as her hips buck and thrash against his. Annette is so close, and Felix gets to feel and watch and hear her, all at the same time.

"Are you gonna cum?" He asks her instead, stalling his hips while she moves. There's a sort of desperation to her actions now, as if he can watch her advance herself closer and closer and closer to the edge.

Annette nods, one of her hands landing on Felix's stomach, keeping him pressed against the mattress. He’s never felt so uninvolved during sex, but he’s happy to watch Annette get herself off with him, 

Annette's orgasm feels earth-shattering, even if it just means he feels it happen the second it begins, the way her gasp is louder than all the others, the way she throws her head forward, and the way she contracts around him, spurring on his own, all of that brilliant light flooding into his bloodstream as she finishes the last few thrusts. She slumps down against him, her hands reaching out to catch her, and when Felix comes-to, he slides his arms up her thighs, up her sides, before pushing her down onto him so her elbows fold inwards, all of the tension leaving her at once. She feels boneless, the same way he does, her heart-beat erratic against her center and against his palm resting on his back. He's gotten used to the idea of him finishing, and Annette, eager and overjoyed and excited, truly, pushing him off. He’s gotten used to expecting it.

It never comes, and instead Annette stays on his torso, each breath more normal than the last. Felix rubs wide, arching patterns around her shoulders, over her ribs, down to her lower back, before starting again, waiting for her signal to pull up and pull back. She taps his shoulder lightly, too tired and too spent, and Felix removes himself, watching his cum run out of her at the release. He lays her on her side, reaching down the bed for the discarded sheets, tugging them up their bodies as he nestles next to her. Annette reaches for him, grabbing his arm to wrap around her, snaking up her body until his hand is nestled against her heartbeat, still beating erratically.

“Do you want to get into your position?” Felix asks, awkwardly, his eyes sweeping the ceiling. He doesn’t expect Annette to turn and face him, her expression throughly sated, her eyes bright and glassy still, her mouth opening and closing.

“Felix,” She says, and it’s that tone she uses with him that sends a pleasant shiver down his spine. “Can you just cuddle me, please?”

Felix doesn’t waste any time holding her against his chest, their afterglow subsiding at the same time. This is the best he’s felt after sex in weeks, maybe months, just getting to lie with his wife and hold her, without an obilgation they’d saddled on each other.

“Maybe,” Annette says, a while later, her voice soft against his skin. “I went a little overboard.”

“Maybe, a little.” Felix affirms, not trying to start another post-coital scrap. He presses a quick kiss to her forehead, squeezing her tightly just for good measure, before starting again. “But you wouldn't be Annette if you didn’t go a little overboard.”

And Felix wouldn’t be Felix if he wasn’t the one to bring her back from that.

Annette doesn’t half-ass anything, especially when it comes to things with a clear positive or negative result.

“I’m just not a patient person.” She admits, and Felix resists the urge to gasp in play-shock. “I just want to do everything right, y’know?”

He kisses her forehead again. Felix isn’t sure how he’ll reassure her so she knows they’re doing everything right, but he’s glad to have his wife and hold her, he hopes that time will be forgiving and all of Annette’s fretting will have paid off, he prays that she’ll be less harsh on herself in the future, so he can savour more and more chances like this.

  
  


-

  
  


It is four moons later when Annette launches herself at him, smothering him with kisses, and a warning that the next seven months will be the most exciting of his life.

Felix suddenly understands her impatiance.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading !!! apologies again !! if this came across as like . overly kinky i promise its not . i just couldnt get this idea out of my mind for a while and i think annette and felix are the couple for it .  
> stay safe everyone !!


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